Inception
by Ngoc Chau
Summary: The young woman stared at him, her eyes never wavering. "Mayuri-sama?" she asked as she came closer to the bars, her hand reaching through and letting it hang before him. "Do you know who I am?" He narrowed his golden eyes, "No. Should I?" Mayuri x Nemu
1. Goddess

**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**

**So this takes place in Bleach three after Kiskue had visited Mayuri with the brain in the jar that was revealed to be a second copy of Mayuri's brain that he had been constructing as a precaution in case something like this ever occured. So this will be what might've happened after Mayuri started to regain his memories and how his relationship with Nemu was affected during that time. I hope you enjoy this. If you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to tell me.**

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><p><strong>Prompt: Goddess<strong>

He felt like he had seen her before, an imprint upon the senses, familiarity. His head was still throbbing.

That Urahara Kisuke had brought him a brain wired in a jar and performed the surgery himself after much bribery and convincing. He thought that they would let him out at that point, but that unpleasant man had told him it would benefit all if he was still behind bars resting until the mess of all this could be cleaned up; besides, he had told him that his precious labs were much destroyed and to see them would be to him the straw that broke the camel's back. He didn't understand what he was talking about, but hearing the words "labs" and destroyed" in the same sentence already made him feel furious.

Currently, there he was behind bars sitting in the dark, this young woman standing before him with her fingers together in front of her.

If he would ever honestly answer, he would say that she was beautiful. There was something about her that was both too innocent like she was being forced into the costume of a shinigami or was playing dress up; and then it was like she had seen too much and had numbed herself to the world around. Nothing can be explained, was a thought that came to him. His eyes roamed over her, studied every square inch of her and burned the mental image into his mind.  
>Green eyes, hair that framed the face nicely, no smile from her unfortunately; red choker on that long ,white neck; a strange sort of shinigami uniform that showed off her legs. He gazed at those legs, imagined how long they might actually feel under his hand. She wore a badge on her arm; a lieutenant, he supposed.<p>

Now what he wanted to know was why she was there in front of his cell, there was no one else with him that she could be seeing and he couldn't imagine why she would want to see him of all people. He was no one special, but the shinigami that had walked by to check up on him, asking him if he would like anything to drink or eat or perhaps another blanket, had addressed him as Captain. It sounded like it was something of a dream that had been too vivid it could've been more than a dream.

The young woman stared at him, her eyes never wavering. "Mayuri-sama?" she asked as she came closer to the bars, her hand reaching through and letting it hang before him. "Do you know who I am?"

He stared at the woman before him, unable to place her.

"No, I don't. Should I?" he said as he straightened himself and looked at her. He smiled a grin and narrowed his golden eyes, "What are you doing here? Aren't you afraid I might kill you or something? There must be a reason, you know, why I'm here."

She looked down at the ground, definitely avoiding his gaze. "I am here to be with you, Mayuri-sama. And though I am afraid that you might kill me, I will let you if you so choose."

He thought that he heard defeat in her voice, fatigue and weariness. He walked up to the bars, face to face with her, she was almost as tall as he was. His hand reached through the bars and held her face in his fingers. He tilted her face up so that he could've looked at her properly. She made no resistance to look away nor did he see any fear or panic or disgust in her, except some other expression in those green eyes that he simply could not name.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am always yours, Mayuri-sama." she answered.

Then as he held her face, images flashed through his mind: a life in a sort of village, a place filled with shinigami, swords, a dark room with voices that came from nowhere, chains…. He stepped away, the input suddenly too much for him. But he at least understood quickly what was happening. Memories, old memories, flooded back to him.

"What did you do to me?" he asked harshly as he drew back further.

"Mayuri-sama?" she asked again.

He wondered if it was her presence that compelled him to receive more of these memories. To test that theory, he reached for her hand and gripped it tight, not risking the chance of her pulling away. She stayed still for him. No memories came at the second contact, but he felt something in him racing. With no warning, he had the greatest urge to trap this woman and then…. What? To either rut like a beast with her until she could walk no longer or break her neck with his bare hands.

Suddenly, shinigami appeared behind the young woman, pulling her away from the bars. "Kurotsuchi-taicho, sir, was she bothering you at all?" they asked worriedly.

Even though he was the one behind bars, it appeared that he still apparently retained his authority.

"No, she isn't." he answered.

They breathed out a sigh of relief and turned to the young woman, "Miss, we think you should go now. Urahara-taicho has just told us that Kurotsuchi-taicho has been through an important surgery and he needs his rest."

She nodded her head and bowed slightly as she exited away. He kept his eyes on her swaying figure as she walked, her legs straight, her heels never touching the ground.

The guards switched their attentions to him, "Sir, do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?"

He sat back down on the bench in his cell. "Just tell me what's happening out there now and if it should be over anytime soon."

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><p><strong>So, how was it? Please leave a review!<strong>

**The reason for calling this Goddess is because I was going to make him seem totally smitten for her, basically give him a blank slate and make him sort of OOC, but after watching the third Bleach movie over and over again, I realize that he will be different only slightly because he's lost some of the memories that had affected him to be the man he is today. But his essence is virtually intact: the sarcasm, the darkness, the black humour... **

**If any of you have any ideas or suggestions for prompts or drabbles, please do not hesitate to leave it in a review or send it in a pm. **


	2. Heal

**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**

**If this seems a bit OOC, please help me fix it. So basically at this point, Mayuri is falling in love with Nemu, or as close to love as possible. ****So... please read and review. Any suggestions can be left in a review or sent in a PM**

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><p><strong>Prompt: Heal<strong>

Reader, there was something in Kurotsuchi Mayuri's recovery that he could not understand.

So far, he had been able to identify who he was, his history from as far back as Rukongai to joining the Gotei 13, some of his subordinates that he had known the longest, some of the captains who had already been captains when he was but a young man of a hundred or so, his zanpakuto and its bankai, and the entire geography of the Seireitei.  
>Though that was not the only problem as he was simultaneously processing old memories as well as gaining new ones alongside.<p>

After the battle with the young children who had been possessed by a hollow, he was finally allowed out of the cell and sent to the 12th division barracks with the orders from medics to rest and relax until all of his memories, both old and new, returned. He had agreed to the arrangement, given that he could still overlook his organization(he had already begun to experience memories of Urahara Kisuke taking him out of the Maggots' Nest into the Gotei 13).  
>Despite that he could barely remember what experiments were in progress or who was part of his organization, he was still capable of supervising and making sure that everything was going according to plan or hypothesis by looking at the numerous reports that a three-horned shinigami named Akon brought him daily and the young woman who was always at his side. There was a difference between not knowing and then understanding, given the proper information to base the conclusion upon.<br>In the midst of his looking over reports and trying to reacquaint himself with it, his eyes would always travel to the young woman who stood obediently at his side.

He could not understand why he didn't remember her; everything else had come swiftly to his mind and the brain was operating well, the medical teams had said. They had supposed it was because she had come to them just recently. Then there was the question of how everyone else was still able to remember the young woman, but then it was the same principle of how they still remembered him while he was regaining his recollection of them.

That was the damnedest thing: he felt a certain bond with her that he could not distinguish or replicate with any of the others. Each day had brought him new thoughts that altered ever angle of his perception, even had him develop new ones. One day he could just be coldly polite to one of his scientists, then the next day rage non-stop over some little thing that had been overlooked before. Those who were not of the organization but merely shinigami took the brunt of his anger; again, he would be nothing but polite to them, the next he would be screaming his head off and threatening to pickle them alive in a vat of hot bubbling acid.

Yet for the young woman, Nemu, they had introduced her to him as his lieutenant and his daughter, he remained at once indifferent to her and perhaps affectionate.

Reader, I use the word affectionate because it seems to be the only way to describe Mayuri's behaviour towards the young girl, his daughter, his creation; though it can be noticed that his attentions to her was, unfortunately, not of a platonic or familial nature. When she would sit in front of the computers and input data, Mayuri would already trap her in his arms; complaining that she wasn't properly putting the data in while brushing his wrists against her fingers as he typed and touching his cheek against hers. At night when they slept, he would walk past her door and stand at the doorway only to watch the steady rise of her chest as she breathed and the occasional whimper from her lips. No matter what, where he was, she followed him; then where she went, he would have to follow afterwards, only to know where she was and what she was doing.  
>He found himself constantly drawn to her, wanting to be close in her presence.<p>

Reader, even his voice was not so harsh to her as to the others and during this time, he did not even strike her! A raised voice here and there, but not once during his recovery did he strike her!

Even stranger than that was that sometimes without warning, he would grab her delicate hands and drag her out of the division and its labs.  
>"I need some air to breathe, my head feels like it's melting." he would tell her, and it would be half the truth for regaining memories and keeping it can be quite an ordeal. He never needed to ask her, she would stay and walk behind him, until he would grab her hand again and had her walk by his side. Believe it or not, Reader, no one ever knew of this, this affection that Mayuri was beginning to have for this young woman.<p>

He could not explain why he was feeling as such, this need that the woman be with him. He had gained enough memories to be past the flaw of admiring aesthetic beauty and no longer had any need for it. But it was something else of her that demanded that his body would always have contact with her, always touching, one way or another.  
>Worse was the temptation. She had repeatedly told him, after he would question her why she should be so devoted him; that he had created her, her life belonged to him, and her will was his to control. That's where the temptation came.<p>

Would she even stop him if he came to her rooms in the dead of night and ordered her to allow him to have her way with her?

What if he should choose so to take her apart?

He did occasionally, she reminded him when he questioned about a certain report in his files, but only to help her.

Pangs were habit with her, he would feel that pang in his chest and gut when she told him of what he had done to her before his memory loss. He never showed what he felt, what he experienced as he prefered to think of it as his own business and no one else; but certainly, he felt it most accutely.

"Why?" he had asked whenever the subject came up.

She didn't know, she answered, he had never told her why, simply that it was for her best.

The realization and the denial of it confused him and worried him, respectively. It was that he knew what he was feeling for the young woman, Nemu. Then he would brush it off, calling it lust as it was probably likely that his job hadn't afforded him enough time with women. Yet he didn't pursue or go after anyone else.  
>He usually felt nothing when he looked at a nude body, a bare breast or whatnot. But to see his lieutenant with her swaying hips, the legs long and straight, the ebony braid against her back; it drove him mad enough once to pin her roughly against a wall, with his hands all over her, and see what sort of a reaction would come from her(though when she gave none, save a small ugh from the impact of suddenly hitting the way, he let her go and resumed with his work, still keeping his eyes on her).<p>

He wanted her like no other.

But was it possible for him, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, to ever love another being?

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><p><strong>So how was it? Okay, at least?<strong>

**Please tell me what you think and if you have any ideas, please leave it in a review or send it in a PM.**


	3. Genji

**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**  
><strong>Ngoc Chau does not own Lolita<strong>  
><strong>Ngoc Chau does not own The Tale of Genji<strong>

**Please read and review!**

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><p><strong>Prompt: Genji<strong>

Unwittingly, he had somehow suggested reading to her.

One afternoon after a splitting headache from remembering a certain experiment gone wrong and ridicule from someone of the 11th division, he had retired to his office, lounging on the couch, an arm draped over his closed eyes. Discreetly, he had uncovered one of his eyes to see what his lieutenant was doing.

She was up and down, at the shelves looking for files and then at the computer inputting data. He was inwardly impressed at himself. He had been told that he had created her and to try and help him speed up with the recovery of his memories, files and documents of his life had been taken out and given to him so that he may relearn everything about himself. One of the files had been her creation, her design, every single note about her in his own writing was jotted down and presented in a folder about a foot thick. There was no denying that his lieutenant was one of Frankenstein-like birth, and so his pride was that he could design a whole other person, one that was capable of thinking without always(occasionally though when her task was completed) asking for the next little step.  
>His eyes would always trace the long braid of her hair, to the sway of her hips, then to the long legs that seemed to stretch until next Tuesday. He wondered what he had been thinking at the moment when he was constructing her body, would he recall that when he was completely healed?<p>

He was tired of the silence, the silence was deafening and he wanted something to distract him from his headache instead of contemplating on it.

"Nemu." he said clear out of the blue.

She stopped her work immediately and went to him, kneeling before him so that her head was not any higher than his. "Yes, Mayuri-sama."

He turned to her, those green eyes of her reflected his bored expression back to him well. "Say something."

"What, in particular, would you like to have me say, Mayuri-sama?" she asked, her eyes looking away from him.

He snarled, it felt like a drill was going through his brow, "Anything! I can't stand this right now! I need to hear something, anything! The quiet isn't doing any good for my head!"

Her brows furrowed and he wondered what she was going to do. Tell him a joke? Ask him about what he can remember so far? Reader, to anyone else looking outside, it would see that Kurotsuchi Mayuri was already better, but there were a few details that he was not yet clear with: such as the Ryoka who had invaded the Seireitei months earlier, the Quincy boy who had almost defeated him, Aizen's betrayal…. Though he could function well, there were some things that was needed to be remembered and until he could remember it clearly, he was still, in Unohana's eyes, impaired and in need of rest and relaxation more than usual.  
>But, Reader, we shall continue back to the story.<p>

Nemu got out of the room for but a second before she instantly appeared, a small book in her hand. She sat in front of him, her knees placed delicately together like a sign of feminine modesty and then she opened the book.  
>" "<em>Chapter 1. Lolita." <em>she began, her voice quiet but rising in volume as she read aloud to him, "_Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-Lee-Ta; the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years as before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. Chapter 2. I was born in 1910 in Paris_….." "

Her voice had no expression, but the tone of it was nice to hear, it lulled him to sleep. That and the storyline was painfully dull for him. He found no interest in listening to some sap complain about his love for a little girl(it was not in his taste to sympathize with such a character who allowed a little girl to wrap him around his finger, no matter how scandalous or licentious the writing was). As she read and he drifted between sleep and consciousness, he wondered where such a book had come from? Had it been his before? Was there some event not yet recalled that had him like the work of a pedophile? Was it hers? If so, where did she get it? Did she like that sort of stuff?

And so, Reader, that was how in the past month as Mayuri gradually regained his memories and dual thoughts, Nemu seldom read to him when his headaches became too strong or when he was simply bored.

Now as he laid back on the couch in his office, his hat resting on his stomach, and Nemu sitting close to him on the floor, she was reading a novel that one of the captains had given to her(without knowing for what reason really, except that it would be read and well appreciated for sure).  
>The Tale of Genji, a supposedly masterful piece of Japanese fiction about human passions, was one that they had acquired recently and it didn't take Mayuri long to guess just who would have suggested and given such a title to Nemu. As she read, he noticed something in her; there was this light in her eyes that would flicker like the flame of a candlelight, sometimes bright, often wavering.<br>" "_Must you continue to be so reticent and apologetic? I have made my own feelings clear, over and over again. It is precisely the childlike quality that delights me most and makes me think I must have have her for my own. You may think me complacent and self-satisfied for saying so, but I feel sure that we were joined in a former life. Let me speak to her, please. _

_"Rushes hide the sea grass at Wakanoura.  
>Must the waves that seek it out turn back to sea? <em>

_"That would be too much to ask of them." _

_"The grass at Wakanoura were rash indeed  
>To follow waves that go it knows not whither. <em>

_"It would be far, far too much to ask" The easy skill with which she turned her poem made it possible for him to forgive its less than encouraging significance. _

_"After so many years," he whispered, "the gate still holds me back." _

_The girl lay weeping for her grandmother. Her playmates came to tell her that a gentleman in court dress was with Shonagon. Perhaps it would be her father? She came running in. "Where is the gentleman, Shonagon? Is father here?" _

_What a sweet voice she had! _

_"I'm not your father, but I'm someone just as important. Come here." She saw that it was the other gentleman, and child though she was, she flushed at having spoken out of turn. "let's go." She tugged at Shonagon's sleeve. "Let's go. I'm sleepy." _

_"Do you have to keep hiding yourself from me? Come here. You can sleep on my knee." _

_"She is really very young, sir." But Shonagon urged the child forward and she knelt obediently just inside the blinds. He ran his hand over a soft, rumpled robe, and, a delight to the touch, hair full and rich to its farthest ends. He took her hand. She pulled away - for he was, after all, a stranger. _

_"I said I'm sleepy." She went back to Shonagon. He slipped in after her. _

_"I am the one you must look to now. You must not be shy with me." _

_"Please, sir. You forget yourself. You forget yourself completely. She is simply not old enough to understand what you have in mind." "it is you who do not understand. I see how young she is, and I have nothing of the sort in mind. I must again ask you to be witness to the depth and purity of my feelings."  
>It was a stormy night. Sleet was pounding against the roof.<br>"How can she bear to live in such a lonely place? It must be awful for her." tears came to his eyes. He could not leave her. "I will be your watchman. You need one on a night like this. Come close to me, all of you." Quite as if he belonged there, he slipped into the girl's bedroom. The women were astounded, Shonagon more than the rest. He must be mad! But she was in no position to protest. Genji pulled a singlet over the girl, who was trembling like a leaf. Yes, he had to admit that his behaviour must seem odd; but, trying very hard not to frighten her, he talked of things he thought would interest her.  
>"You must come to my house. I have all sort of pictures, and there are dolls for you to play with." <em>

_She was less frightened than at first, but she still could not sleep. The storm blew all through the night, and Shonagon quite refused to budge from their side. The would surely have perished of fright, whispered the women, if they had not had him with them. What a pity their lady was not a little older…_" "

His fingers played with her hair, twisting it around and feeling its silkiness.  
>What a man he was to have made such a woman, he thought as he soon drifted into sleep, halfway bored with the story.<p>

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><p><strong>Not very good, but it's adequate enough to be a filler. If you have any other ideas for prompts, please leave it in a review or send it in a PM<strong>


	4. Kiss

**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**

**Please read and review. **

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><p><strong>Prompt: Kiss<strong>

Reader, finally Kurotsuchi Mayuri was beginning to regain his thoughts about his young creation, his lieutenant. Already, the urge to create and fashion something that could rival anything that Urahara Kisuke could possibly do came to him, and it was then that he knew that this must have been the catalyst for Kurotstuchi Nemu. Thoughts of a soldier that could carry almost a thousand times his weight a weapon that could think and move on its own, his own acolyte. Even more impressive than the Mod Souls, to be able to create a soul that had its own zanpakuto, its own alter ego and power. He would be capable of surpassing the previous 12th division captain, he would be able to mimic God!

But there was the strangest phenomenon behind him; he was confronted with dual thoughts. The first of these thoughts was the returning feelings of his lieutenant that he saw her as a child who was ignorant and stupid, needing his guidance in which to grow and mature; that she was his to do whatever and however he saw fit to educate her and to aid her in her development, a more than capable assistant(though he feared to tell her such for that would beget confidence, and that would inevitably lead her to step out from under his wing. Some instinct inside him dreaded that one day she would leave him: call herself ready to face the world by herself without him to show her) that would follow his footsteps to the dotted line, his confidante.

And yet, he faced the emotions that had grown since he first met her with the new brain transplant. To him, he saw her as a woman: his standard to what a woman should at least pass as. He wanted her. He desired her. She frightened him, no, it was the idea of her that frightened him. Should he fall to his lust and want for her and took her as he wanted, who was to say that he would still be in control? Would he become weaker? Was that the man he was before: a snivelling sap who had the young woman cloud his mind and tried desperately to hide it by screaming and yelling and ready to kill anyone who found out? Or was he Kurotsuchi Mayuri: the mad-genius captain of the 12th division: unfeeling, frightening, a person to never underestimate or trust?

It confused him greatly: to look at his lieutenant and think two completely different things, to either cut her to pieces or to crush her in his hold. Once he was better, could he come up with something to erase the memories of his rehabilitation? Or was that needed as well? What was the point of having two sets of memories when the first set was so much more easier to cope with?

He shuddered and fell back onto his chair, more memories - the design for her soul, the toil of her body, the almost instantaneous growth of foetus to child to woman, the first look of green eyes; the rising of the chest and leap of the hearts, whose? - bombarded him and his head felt like it was going to melt.

A hand gripped his shoulder, none too lightly, to steady him as he ceased his convulsions and calmed down, the sweat running down his face. "Mayuri-sama." she asked, her brows slightly furrowed, "Are you alright?"

Something in him roared at that simple question, its words escaped through his mouth before he could stop it, "Of course I'm not alright, you stupid twit! Does it look like I'm alright? Pay attention to what an ill man looks like!"

She did not wince at his insult, nor did she appear hurt.

He stood up, his teeth clenched together and his fists pounding on his head. "I need to get out of here!" he said more to himself than to her. He stormed out of the barracks, his captain's haori billowing behind him, and he had to resist the growing urge to cut through someone's gut who so happened to cross his way. The zanpakuto at the front of him was practically begging to be drawn, to hear someone scream as it cut through them. The air felt as confining outside as it was inside. He heard the steady steps that he recognized belonging to Nemu. She had come after him.

"What took you so long? Did I really do so poorly on you that you're slower than one of those academy freshmen?" The words just came out of him without thinking. Word vomit. Honestly, he was conscious that he was in physical pain, that his head hurt, and that it frustrated him to not be able to concentrate enough to remedy it. But something in him, at his gut, at the back of his head, in his hands felt like snapping out of control, felt like everything was going wrong. He could not understand it and so that added more to his agonizing confusion. Then there was the overall feeling of numbness. He should feel angry at this, he should be understanding at that; yet through it all, he felt a cold numbness that only had the result for release, that everything was coming out of him.

Nemu asked, her words slightly slower if anyone would pay attention, "Then, do you remember who I am, Mayuri-sama?"

There was a snarl in his voice, "Who could ever forget you! Who could ever forget…a troublesome… idiotic… lazy… girl… like you." As the words came, he felt no remorse nor any guilt at it. Perhaps a pang, but it was quickly washed over by something else, a certain emotion that he could not name.  
>"I'm sorry." would be the best thing to say, then a embrace shared by the two of them to signify forgiveness; but, Reader, they are not people to do such things.<p>

She bowed her head slightly, "Forgive me, Mayuri-sama. It was a most insolent thing to ask. I am in no position to question you."

He looked at her and she looked back at him, the space hung between them, limitless, eternal. He turned away and walked through the path he knew that no one else walked through, or seldom did. She followed. There were no words shared between them. As she stayed behind him, he would sometimes halt for her to walk next to him, but she would shy away and slow her pace to remain behind him. Then he had to grab her wrist and hold it until she understood the message that he did indeed want her beside him. She complied hesitantly, keeping her head low. Her presence did not make anything lighter, nor did it make it any worse. It was indifferent. But he wanted her with him, next to him, close to him. But then he wanted her far from him. Two thoughts, which was his before, and which was his now?

He wanted to rest afterwards, she knew where there was a bench and she even offered to carry him to it if he so wished. Mayuri didn't bother answering, walking ahead of her as a way of indicating that he did not need to her to carry him.  
>The bench was modest and it looked to be something that the 4th division had made for it had their logo carved in the middle of it. He sat down and she along with him, the distance was significant. He leaned back on the bench, she sat up straight with her hands in her lap. The wind passed by.<p>

After a silence, she asked him, "Mayuri-sama, might you remember the Quincy?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "What about the Quincies? They have no interest to me anymore." The memories of the Quincies that he had caught and experimented on came at first as a surprise to him, yet ended with mirth and glee as he recalled the vivid details and satisfaction that lay in studying every single one of them until they were nothing but mush and powdered bones.

She cleared her throat, "Forgive me then, Mayuri-sama, for asking you such a question."

He looked off in the distance of the trees, the shapes of it melting together until it looked like a single form. "There was this old man, the last Quincy. I recall, he was screaming this name during the procedure: Ishida Uryu. I don't know why that name should sound so significant to me, but I can't forget it." He looked at her, his fingers tapping on the edge of the bench, "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you, Nemu."

She nodded her head, "Ishida Uryu is another Quincy, Mayuri-sama. He will come to you shortly in your memories, I believe."

"It's strange that I should remember such a lowly Quincy. Was there anything special about him?"

"He was a subject that you were monitoring, Mayuri-sama."

"For what?" he asked.

"You did not tell me much about it, Mayuri-sama."

The words slipped from his tongue again, "Stupid girl." He stood up, stretching his limbs. Nemu looked up at him before standing up herself.

"Are you ready to go back now, Mayuri-sama?" A thought came to him: he was a man, she was a woman, both of them were alone and up for anything. The thought compelled him to step towards her, she stepped back. Something was telling him that he was impatient, another was destroying that notion and saying that Nemu was being dumb.  
>He grabbed for her and she gave no resistance.<p>

"Mayuri-sama…" she whimpered as he gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Don't say anything. Just be quiet!" he whispered harshly to her, the eyes wide.

She nodded her head. He thought that she seemed to know, or at least begin to know, what was happening, what he was doing for her eyes fluttered halfway closed and her lips parted only slightly.  
>He took her face in his hands and she leaned in as he did. The tips of their noses touched. With lips that brushed only briefly for a moment, they kissed.<p>

Now, Reader, what happened afterward with their kiss, whether they kissed again because he was satisfied with the first one of that day being a success or that he brought it to another level behind closed doors, I will not tell you. Such a moment this time, this intimacy, this small kiss is hardly worth elaborating on. So I will leave what happened after that small kiss to your, the Reader's, imagination.

But Reader, I will, at least, tell you one thing: he held her hand afterwards as she blushed before they had to leave that bench by the plum tree.

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><p><strong>So, how was it?<strong>

**Please, if you have any ideas, leave it in a review or send it in a PM.**


	5. Kisses

**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**

**So I had planned this out before, but then I forgot and it got all screwed up. I'm not sure if it's any better or worse. But I seriously doubt that anyone really cares anymore... wahh!**

**Anyway, please read and review. **

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><p><strong>Prompt: Kisses<strong>

Truthfully, she did not really notice his attraction to her. She had mistaken it perhaps for a malady in the brain that he had designed, but then remembered that her father could never make a mistake. Though, she had never noticed it, thinking it perhaps that he had a different view now of everything. But after that kiss and the afternoon and evening that followed, she had almost fooled herself that he would love her, as daughter, then woman…

But she was wrong, terribly wrong as he usually said she was. The following day, he had regained his memories swifter than before; where he had remembered weeks at a time, he was beginning to remember months and years. And so he had changed.  
>Reader, to anyone, he had already been cured the moment he stepped out of his cell with those yellow eyes glaring coldly at everyone and sending fear into them. But to Nemu, he had grown colder, colder than before he lost his memory; it was as though he was not only trying to become the same man he was before, but making sure that no one would ever mention the him that he was while he was recovering.<br>Whenever he yelled at her or ignored her, or even struck her until she blacked out, she would think back to those times he had kept her close to him, had touched her, and most of all, she would remember that kiss that seemed too perfect. He would've beat her for uttering that word: perfect. But it was perfect to her, it could not have been any more improved for her, it could not have been any better, and it could not have changed.

But now she feared him more than ever because he was no longer the same Kurotsuchi Mayuri, he was a changed man who went a little bit farther than he did before without warning and she was afraid that he was losing himself. He was not a man to stay oddly quiet with those intense eyes as he cut apart a screaming victim and told them to scream louder for him; no, he was a curious scientist who had enjoyed his work as though play and sought to find the solution and answer to what he had questioned before, his smiles and glee went only for the satisfaction of seeing that his hypothesis was correct or even if there was an interesting outcome.

He had made himself darker.

She wondered why. No one would ever disrespect him, no one would ever challenge him, no one would ever condescend him, no one would ever lock him back up in that cell; yet, he barricaded himself in bars and chains to make sure that no one would ever touch him, they would have to be more cruel than him to harm him. He had indeed lost his mind and regained it to become madder in their eyes.

Then one day in the labs while one experiment hadn't been going well, his temper had exploded and he was taking it out on everybody, particularly her. She was there as his anchor to reality, his pacifier. She was there to take his anger for him. All the scientists stepped away and she stepped in. Of course, she became the only thing in his eyes as soon as she came to him face to face. He grabbed her arms and shook her, blaming the entire thing on her and asking her why she wasn't watching.  
>The thought of that afternoon came back, when he held her almost the same way.<p>

Mayuri sneered at them all, "You're all trying to make a fool out of me! This was child's play and it went wrong! How could it have gone wrong?"

Apologies were murmured all around, she could feel the air become stifling as everyone held their breath, afraid that the slightest sounds would draw his attention from her to them. But they should have no fear of that, he had created her for part of this purpose, to protect and to serve.

He threw her to the ground. "You stupid bitch!"

She braced herself for the blow that would come to her, she could never run from this man, but it did not. His hand was drawn back, ready to strike her, but he hesitated; his fingers were twitching and his limb was trembling as though something was holding him. Then his golden eyes narrowed, the teeth clenched even tighter than possible and the next thing she felt was a horrible sting on her right cheek and the crack that echoed throughout the labs.

All the scientists stopped their work momentarily to look up at the fallen lieutenant and the captain that loomed overhead of her.

He turned on them, snarling, "What are you all looking at? You all have work to do! I swear, if not a single one of you goes back to work now, I'll use all of you rats into test subjects!"

There was the sudden cacophony of tapping keys.

She stood up and bowed to him, "My deepest apologies, Mayuri-sama. It was my fault, I shall do better."

She saw his fist raise only slight as it clenched into a fist, shaking. It fell back down at his side. He turned on his heel and went back to see if the experiment could still be salvaged.

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><p><strong>So, what do you think?<strong>


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